Bio:

This is one little dug with a long story to tell. Standing proud at 1m 10cm, the 74 year old has seen the rise and fall of countless Galactic Governments, and lived out the lies of an army of forgotten Politicians each promising a brighter tomorrow.

Sal was always an eye catching little thing, his white and orange colouration stood out in stark contrast to his beautiful turquoise eyes, the spitting image of his father. However his world was not as bright.

Having escaped the shackles of slavery he was born into, Sal was conscripted into the first of three Civil Wars in his lifetime, opting to fight for whoever offered the most amount of travel at least amount of front line entanglement. Sal trained as a rifleman, then as a sharpshooter, turning his deadeye and nimble dexterity toward Hunting, Pool-sharking and Bird Watching between intergalactic conflicts. It wasn’t until peace was won and life slowed that life got dull… during the Decline Sal’s farm was infested by plague which cost him his life savings and the mortality of his wife (with child).

Sal has been left numb by this Universe. The once optimistic go-getter turned melancholy-nihilist wandered the stellar streams aimlessly; a paper scrap lost in a junk yard of lonely souls, no suicide held enough poetry to be worth the effort.

Decades went by before Sal was knocked to his feet, the fifteen-hundred-and-something year old was blind on a spice binge and in need of a fix, when he crossed paths with dashing young upstart, Captain James Riley, who’s sense of adventure and promise of purpose was Sal’s last hope at a meaningful death… and the credits to solve his woes.

At first Sal looked to his new home as a ship of lost souls bound to wander the astral tides for all time. But has since come to respect and even love its inhabitants as his extended family. Sure beats self-pity.